I just want to go home
Lee Pletzers
Copyright Lee Pletzers 2010
Published at Smashwords
This short was previously published in Cyberpulp Halloween anthology 2001 under the pen name, Richard Lee.
The day had started off as normal. The alarm rang at six thirty. It’s beep beep beep slowly pulling me from sleep. Over the years I've come accustomed to it but it still irritates my wife, Lucy.
"Gary, turn that friggin’ thing off."
I do as she commands. Instantly, she curls into a fetal position under the blankets, keeping the cold winter morning at bay.
The soles of my feet feel the sting of a cold wooden floor as I paddle across the hall to the bathroom. The sound of the television wafts up from downstairs. Debbie awake early as usual during school holidays engrossed in Power Rangers or whatever it was seven-year-olds watched these days.
I prefer to shower at night, especially in the winter season, so preparing to get ready for the day consists of pouring cold water on my hair and splashing my face. The reflection in the mirror shows a tired forty two-year-old taxi driver with curly dark hair, thinning on top and blood shot eyes.
Something caught my eye, a flash of color where there shouldn't be. Slowly I looked up above the toilet tank. A frosted window above was open and I saw the rain pounding down. I hadn't heard it earlier, although I should have 'cause it was really coming down.
Something had grabbed my attention. Lightning burned the sky and in that second I saw a face. An old lady wearing a cheap plastic raincoat with a hood. I'd never seen anyone so wrinkled; she must have been a hundred or more. It was then that I realized I was on the second floor.
The old lady grinned, showing black and yellow teeth. The surprise sent me stumbling backward, arms flailing at my sides trying to find something to stop my fall. I felt searing hot pain as my side found the corner of the bath. Then I was on the floor, clutching my side and swearing worse than a sailor.
I looked back at the window, it seemed like a good idea at the time. The rain was still coming down and the old lady's face stared at me. Her eyes were small and oval shaped. Black as coal.
I pushed myself against the wall. The face was growing larger, as if it was trying to come through the window but something was holding it back, something would not let it enter this sphere. It seemed a crazy thought at the time but totally logical.
I hadn't realized my arms were crossed in front of my face, not until Lucy shook me awake.
"Babe," she said. "You were having a bad dream."
I was in bed; the sheet twisted around one leg, the other leg hung off the mattress. The summer sun beamed through the gaps in the curtains. I looked over at the alarm clock. 7:20.
"You all right?"
I collected my thoughts and took in the surroundings.
"Christ," I said. "It seemed so real…" My words trailed off. I was still shaken and could feel the sweat beading my head and swung my legs off the bed and sat up. The alarm buzzed. She reached past me to turn it off. I cupped my hands and held my head. Fragments of the dream flashed before my closed eyes. Pieces of a mixed puzzle. Curly hair, tired eyes, rain and then suddenly it was gone, gone the way of all dreams.
Lucy wrapped her arms around me, cuddling my back. Her hands gently stroked my chest. She kissed my ear and whispered, "Time to get ready for work."
"Oh, I forgot to tell you, I got the night shift. Carl's off sick past couple of days, my turn to fill in for him. I also get to cruise down 173rd."
She released her cuddle.
"What? It's my special route."
"No one goes down 173rd on Friday night."
I turned around and knelt on the bed in front of her. "You don't believe in that hogwash, do you?"
Lucy shook her head, "Of course not. But it's your first month as a taxi driver. I don't think there are ghosts or ghouls but perhaps some bad elements hang out there on Friday nights."
I hugged her. Lucy the worrier, I used to call her before we got married and she had Katie. Sweet three year-old Katie, who calls me daddy, even though I ain't. My best friend…Sonofabitch.
"Nothing's gonna happen, babe." I could hear her sobs and although her crying never bothered me, I pretended it did and hugged her tighter.
"Promise me you won't go down that street tonight, any night but Friday. Okay? Please promise me that."
"I promise I won't go down that street."
"Really?"
"Uh-huh."
"Katie loves you, and I do too."
I rolled off the bed, heading for the bathroom. There are some things I can't give an answer too.
The day dragged on. I ate breakfast and lunch, played with Katie and her dolls, messed about and at three decided to get in a nap before work at seven. Katie joined me, I laid her down on her mother's side. After two minutes she was asleep. Damn life was easy for kids. Still, everyone had to grow up and face responsibilities.
But not my best friend. The prick finds out Lucy's pregnant, knows I'm out to Kung Fu his ass, and he goes and injects too much crack. Overdose. What a Loser.
I looked at the alarm clock, 1530. I curled up under the sheet, had second thoughts and rolled over to Katie, her innocent face, all muscles relaxed. I took her in my arms and fell asleep holding her.
It seemed as if only a second had passed before the alarm awoke me at 1800. Katie was gone, no surprise there. She would've crawled out from under me and went to look for mummy.
I pulled the tangled sheet off me and went to the closet. Hanging in front of me was the new uniform of Speedy Cab co. Crisp and black, same color as the taxi. I put on the uniform, adjusted my Donald Duck printed tie and slipped into the jacket. My name tag glistened before me in the mirror, Gary Donaldson, Driver. I hand brushed my long black hair into an acceptable state and place the company cap backwards on my head.
Laughter came from downstairs, Lucy and Katie sharing a joke. My watch alarm beeped 6:30, time to say goodbye and head off. One more week to the end of the month, no more salary, everything's commission after that, and that's where the big bucks are.
I turned away from the mirror and caught a glimpse of a rain sodden coat. I spun back to face the mirror and saw only me. A chill ran an icicle of fear along my spine. I had a sudden feeling of someone watching me from behind, but I couldn't see anyone in the mirror. Still I didn't turn around, instead I took a few sidesteps towards the door then made a quarter turn and bolted for the safety of the hall.
Once in the hallway, hearing gentle laughter coming from the living room, I felt foolish. Like a stupid kid afraid of his own shadow.
The laughter had stopped by the time I got to the living room. I had a smile and both Katie and Lucy laughed at my backward company cap. It got the reaction I was after.
"Daddy funny," Katie said through giggles.
"Hey, this is the latest fashion in the taxi world," I said.
"No it's not," Katie said, "it's silly."
"Silly is as silly be," I answered with a grin. I looked at my watch 6:46. Damn it. "Daddy's gotta go, little miss."
"Goodbye kiss, first." She puckered her lips.
I gave her a quick peck and headed out, noticing Lucy's lost look. I returned and gave her a kiss without any emotion in it. Usually I could fake it, but not today…something about the date.
Running late, I rushed out the door and jumped into my car. A few quick revs later and I was off; arriving at work just in time to beat the clock.
"Hey, Donaldson." It was the boss.
"Yes, sir?" I said, worried about just arriving in time. Most other drivers were in early. They liked to drink a cup of coffee and spin crud about hot chicks wanting a ride and gaving the driver something a bit better than the fare. They were nothing more than stories.
"Larry's going to be a bit late with your cab. He got a flag down." He came up close to me and said quietly, "Talk with the lads, they think you're a snob. Remember happy workers within the circle make a happy company. You need to get in the circle. Try." He gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder.
"I'll give it a whirl, boss." I smiled with no intention of doing that. They looked like people with little hope and big stories. Instead I'll disappear for ten minutes or so.
Turns out I didn't have to, Larry pulled in about a minute later, and he looked more tired than usual. He climbed out and tossed the keys to me. I failed to catch them; this brought laughs. I scooped them up off the concrete floor as Larry said, "She's gassed up and ready to roll."
The sun was setting earlier these days; the end of summer was almost here. Soon it would be time to flick the clocks back an hour. I wondered when this was. I have always been terrible with dates. If it wasn't for TV announcements and radio DJ's I'd be an hour early or late forever.
The streets in town were busy as usual, company trucks doing overtime, carloads of hooligans with music blearing. All of them had a cigarette dangling between dry lips. Skinheads, gang members, stoners, hippie wannabes and ordinary folk all walking the street together, vaguely aware of each other; each in their own little world, going their own way. Just like me.
"Bugger it!" I cursed as I turned the corner to the taxi stand. How many are there? Seven, eight? I'm gonna be stuck idle for the next hour or so.
I pulled up and parked behind an independent operator and started to twiddle my thumbs. Even forgot the cell phone, not that I have anyone to call. I turned on the radio to an 80's station and tapped my fingers to some of the best music ever created.
A stunning young lady tapped on the window. Ladies like her were the basis of every crude story spun at the taxi company, and yes, she wore a tight miniskirt and a pair of mirror sunglasses.
I pushed down the window button.
"Hi, can I get a lift please?"
"Sorry ma'am, you'll have to go to the front of the line." I shrugged my shoulders, "It's the rules."
"Hey, Gary," she said, removing her sunglasses. "Do you have any idea what the date is?"
I just stared at her not quite sure what action to take.
"You don't remember me, do you?" She leaned in closer. "Imagine me with long black hair, a nose ring and whack a few extra pounds on my hips." She stepped back and did a turn.
I could barely see her in the fading light, but when I did as she requested, I saw a girl I shouldn't be seeing.
"Rachael?" My voice was far too soft for anyone to have heard, especially over the pounding of my heart.
"That's right, Gary. Move to the front of the class." She came close to the window again.
"But, you're…"
"Come on stoner, you can say it."
"Dead." The word popped out of my mouth as if it had a life of its own.
Rachael smiled. "On the nose," she said.
I freaked at that point. I pushed the gear stick into drive and slammed my foot on the gas pedal. How I missed the independent cab and the guy on the motorcycle, who flicked me the finger, I will never know. But I pulled out into the flow of traffic and just kept driving. I drove in circles, staying away from the city center. My boss called me a few times on the radio. I guess he gave up when I wouldn't answer. There was no way I was going to pick up a passenger tonight. Uh-uh. No way.
"What's the matter Gary?" Rachael asked.
I looked in the rear vision mirror, all I saw were the city lights and blackness.
"I'm still here, baby."
Her arm reached forward and caressed my shoulder. That I could see and feel, yet the mirror showed no one there.
Turning in my seat I saw an old lady, the one from my dream. She wore a rain sodden raincoat. Her gray hair was stringy and hung limp, like a mop at her sides, there was no smile now. She still had a young Rachael's hand though and it still caressed my shoulder.
The old lady spoke, her voice was croaky yet sounded fill of life. "Take me to 173rd street. And do it now."
A drizzle started from nowhere as I turned onto 173rd street. Most of the lights on this street were broken, the glass smashed. Maybe Lucy was right, hoods did hang here at night and most likely they had guns and took pot shots at the lights. It was weird, during the day this street was alive, and people bustling here and there, cars double-parked in front of the bakery or the fish and chips shop. It now looked like a ghost street. Damn, wish I hadn't thought that!
Halfway down the street, the air didn't look right. It swayed back and forth like a wave was stuck in it and trying to get out. I stopped the car.
"Continue," croaked the old lady.
"I don't wanna go in there."
"You have no choice, boy." Her voice rose.
"There's always a choice," I countered.
The Rachael hand changed into a green rotting stump, blackening bones showed through rotted flesh. My foot remained on the brake.
"Trust me, boy. What's in there is nothing compared to what I can let you see walking through these streets on Friday night."
My foot eased off the brake a little.
"Stories are always based on a factual happening." The old Lady removed the Rachael hand, much to my relief. "Do you wish to see?"
No I certainly did not.
"Ie ni keretai." The old lady whispered. I had no idea what she had just said but I had the taxi headed toward that large wavy pocket of air. "Good," she whispered. "I want to go home."
The taxi's headlights couldn't penetrate the blackness of the wave rearing towards the old lady and me.
"The day of reckoning. Your special day, Gary."
As the cab was engulfed by the black wave, I heard the old lady add, "You truly don't remember, do you? You blocked it very well."
The memory trying to push free of me earlier was now helped along by the wave. I saw myself twelve years ago. God, how old was I? Seventeen? I watched a young me, rolling a joint with my best friend, Terry and his girl, Rachael.
The three of us were tight in those days. The three musketeers, you could say, except without the forth. Nothing got between us. No lover's spats or anything. Terry and Rachael were the perfect couple, they were together up until about three years ago.
"What happened six years ago, Gary?"
I hardly noticed her croaky voice.
"The three of us back then were stoners. We loved the high, the hit and never wanted to come down. Then we got onto some heavier stuff. Six years ago?" I had to think about that; memory lane was a pleasant place to be.
"What happened six years ago, Gary?" the old lady repeated.
My answer came fast: "I met Lucy and we got married." After a moment of thought, I added, "And decided to get my act together. Clean myself up and get a job. But Lucy…"
"Lucy didn't like that, did she? She was more into the drugs than you thought possible."
All I could do was nod. I felt hot tears roll down my face. When we split up that was the loneliest time of my life. I had no idea how hard it was to be without your friends, fighting everyday not to take a hit.
Six months passed, and I was feeling good. The only vice I had left was cigarette smoking and I figured if I could stop using crack cold turkey, I sure as hell could stop smoking. Then I got a phone call.
The voice was urgent: "Gary, Lucy's been taken to hospital. She's messed up, man."
I recognized the voice immediately. "Terry, slow down. I can't catch a thing you're saying. Take a deep breath and say it all over again." I didn't need Terry to repeat it, there's nothing wrong with my hearing, and you can talk as fast as a bullet and I'll still catch each word. I needed to hear it again, to be sure I'd heard right. And I had.
The judge was nice to her in court. Twelve month suspended sentence and three months in rehab, with all the support she would ever need. I told her I'd be waiting for her when she came out.
The three months passed quickly. I worked hard, saved hard and thought only about her returning. When I met her at the gates of the rehab clinic, she was beefed up, a tad on the heavy side, and she looked much better and healthier than when we got married. She had a special glow, something I had never seen before.
I on the other hand, did not smoke, had a steady job and a mortgage. Sure, it wasn't much, only an old welfare house, but it had a large lawn and the area wasn't so bad. All I needed was this beautiful woman to join me in the house. And she did.
Everything was going beautifully. The both of us hadn't heard a word from Terry, well as far as I knew back then. I kept a close eye on Lucy, hoping she wouldn't fall back into that death spiraling pattern. Thank god she didn't. Instead she got pregnant.
I hadn't noticed the change in her attitude. She lost weight, started to eat a lot of junk food and her face broke out in pimples. I had blinded myself to the signs. Marijuana was back in her life. I was not going to let her out of my site with our child growing inside.
The old lady broke into my thoughts. "When did she tell you?"
I tried to block her out but she repeated the question, over and over. Her croaky voice growing on my nerves, making my arms tingle. My hands balled into fists.
I spun around in my seat. She laughed at me. I drove my fist into her face, the hardest punch I've ever thrown. It hardly fazed her.
"When did she tell you?"
"You know when!" I screamed at the top of my voice, "You know damn well it was Friday the 12th.”
"What month?"
"This month." My voice calmed. I remembered it all perfectly now. I didn't want to. The pain of a breaking heart is a very real pain. My heart felt like it had shrunk in on itself and the two halves had gone in opposite directions.
I did not show my hurt, my anger at her or my fear of losing her. Everything I had done was for her or more truthfully -- us.
All the obstacles, which seemed unbeatable at the time, were conquered. I beat them all. I thrashed them into little molehills and stepped on them. Crushing them out of existence. After all that, I finally thought I'd live an ordinary life with an ordinary family and join the others in the rat race. I thought it was all going to happen. My goals would finally be realized.
Then Lucy had to go and say: "Gary. There's no easy way for me to say this."
"Just spit it out," I said, eating my Marmite toast.
It took her a long time to say it. It came completely out of the blue, took me by surprise. She said: "Gary, Terry and I slept together."
I continued to eat my toast and asked, "When?"
"Does it really matter?"
"Is…" I couldn't find the words to say it, so I pointed to her swelled 8 month pregnant stomach.
She was silent a moment, then: "No."
I stood up, went to the sofa, retrieved my jacket and Donald Duck printed tie. The only tie I have ever owned. I was an insurance salesman at that time. Basically I ran my own time schedule. If I didn't pop into the office, it didn't matter.
"Where are you going?" Tears ran a river down Lucy's face.
I couldn't look at her. Everything I had worked and sweated for was crumbling before my eyes.
"Gary?"
"One of us needs to make some money around here."
"Gary please, we need to talk."
"Will you shut your goddamn trap, for once, will you just shut the hell up!" I picked up the closest thing to me. It was an ashtray filled with loose change. I hurled it full strength. Never in my life did I expect it to hit her. It slammed into her head, which flicked back from the force. I saw the skin split wide and the gush of blood scared me, but I was blind with rage at the time.
"Do you blame me for doing that, old lady?" I asked, looking her square in the eyes. There was no reaction from her. As still as a statue, I thought and said, "I need to answer that question myself, right?" Nothing. The old bag only stared at me. After a moment, I said: "I think I had every right to do that."
What I didn't have a right to do was to visit Terry.
I pulled up at the side of the road in my Toyota, blocking the driveway to his apartment. I knew he'd be home, I just didn't know what kind of state he would be in.
Off-his-face was the state in which he opened the door. "Gary," he mumbled. "Man, just let me explain what happened. Okay?"
"Explain in Hell." I pushed forward, shoving him against the hallway wall. My fist drove deep into his stomach. He doubled over, and I brought my knee up to greet his face. The shattering of his nose was clearly audible. The blood clearly visible, yet he didn't utter a sound. His breathing was heavy and raspy and I knew he wasn't unconscious.
I threw him to the couch. A small steel bowl bounced off. Inside the bowl I noticed things I used to use. The syringe, the thin leather tube to tie around your arm, the teaspoon and the most important instrument of all, the candle.
"I can't believe you didn't grow up, man," I said more disgusted than angry. "Look at this crap dude. Hell, you ain't seventeen anymore. Look at the life you've thrown away." It felt like I was talking to a pillow.
There was nothing I could do to this old friend that could possibly make his life worse than it already was.
Then Terry made a mistake. He said, "I enjoyed banging your wife. Nice taste." He licked his lips.
I kicked him in the head. He was out cold. His body was limp on the old sofa.
At my feet were the tools of a druggie and a small bag of light brown powder. Kneeling down, I set the old tools of the trade to work and heated the brown power in the tea spoon.
With the rubber tube fastened tightly on my old friend's arm, I patted his upper forearm looking for a vein. His arms were severely bruised. I filled the syringe and for good measure I added some air.
I was surprised to find myself able to do this. It was easy. Gently insert the needle, squeeze the plunger and watch the vein expand as the liquid poured in.
Terry grunted. He tried to sit up and I had to force him down. The needle in his arm snapped in two. During the struggle I felt the broken needle pierce my thumb. Two quick punches to his face took care of the fight. I untied the rubbed tube. I watched him die. He twitched a lot before he finally laid still. The scream followed next. Rachael standing behind me, her body shaking, her druggie eyes trying to comprehend the scene.
I jumped to my feet, grabbed her by the hair and slammed her into the wall. I twisted her hair into a ball in my hand.
"You know what he did?"
She laughed, spitting blood.
"Do you know?" I shouted.
She laughed again but there was no smile with it. "'Course I know. Think I'm blind? You think you're gonna do me too? Huh! Then go ahead lover boy, ram your rod into me. See if I care. Then you'll get what he got." She heckled like a crazy woman. Or just like a druggie.
I looked at my bleeding thumb.
"Maybe you already got it." She laughed. "Come on big boy." In a whisper she hissed: "Give it to me."
And I did. I drove the broken syringe into her eye, felt it pop. I had to cover her mouth with my syringe holding hand. She struggled like a wild beast. Thrashing crazily about. I drove my knee into the small of her back pushing her face first to the floor. I banged her head into the carpet a few times, driving the syringe deep. Then I jumped on her neck to end it.
I washed my hands in their bathroom. I couldn't stop shaking. I could barely control the water flow or hold the towel. Somehow I managed to make it back to my place. Lucy was lying in bed with a damp towel covering the gash from the ashtray. I told her I was truly sorry and that if she'd let me, I'd like to raise the child as ours. Then we talked. We talked through the night and into the next day. A few weeks later she gave birth to a baby girl, the cutest thing I had ever seen in my life.
I devoted most of my time to little Katie, that my sales suffered and I lost my job to a young go-getter fresh out of college.
"And here I am, you old lady. Happy?"
She smiled. At last a reaction. I'm surprised to be relieved by this.
"Can I go home now?"
I heard my name called from outside, in a voice all too familiar: Terry. He approached the cab suspiciously at first. He saw me and shouted something to others, I couldn’t see.
His fist slammed the windscreen, producing a long spidery crack. I pushed the gear stick into reverse and slammed the gas pedal. The taxi didn't reverse. I could hear the tires spinning, felt the taxi sliding in an arch and let it continue on its way.
Rachael had joined Terry. Both of them pounded the car. The old lady in the back laughed.
"I wanna go home!" I screamed at her.
Her laugh increased in volume.
"I just want to go home!" I forced the gear into drive, heard the gearbox scream in protest to such a violent act and then skidded forward.
Terry had produced a baseball bat from somewhere and smashed the rear window. He worked his way around to the driver's side.
I watched him pull the bat back and drive it home. The taxi gripped something and shot forward as the bat slammed into the side of my head. I was almost unconscious as I saw the taxi going through the wave.
The last thing I heard was the old lady's croaky voice: "You know what's waiting for you when it's your time. Be good to that little girl."
The taxi shot through the wave and head first into an oncoming truck.
I heard the accident was awesome. The taxi was a crumpled piece of metal in a torn heap. The firefighters came to cut me free.
Lucy was the first person I saw when my eyes opened.
"Hi there," I managed.
"Hi there," she repeated. "Do you remember what happened?"
I shook my head slowly.
"There's someone here dying to see you." Lucy stepped aside and I saw Katie asleep on a little cot.
Seeing little Katie set a fire in my heart, a passion I couldn't hold down. I made a promise then and there to make this family right. I’d try to make everything work. And if I had to start from scratch with Lucy and Katie, then I will. There was no denying it, this was my family and they were my home.
End.